


Autolatry

by Findarato



Category: Messiah Project - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 01:44:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4203237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Findarato/pseuds/Findarato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fic fill. In which Eiri thinks Haku is trolling him, but it turns out he really isn't. [Slightly edited from the tumblr version]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Autolatry

**Author's Note:**

> _(This was supposed to be a drabble fill, and it turned out to be two pages and more than 1k words, lol. But I enjoyed writing it.)_

 

_**Autolatry** – the worship of one’s self_

“Eiri.”

“Hm?” He keeps his eyes on the computer screen as he writes his report. Haku, he knows, is again in bed, a book in one hand and a handful of candy in the other. He heard the crunches and crinkling of paper, and at times he could even smell it.

“I just thought of something.”

…something probably terrible, Eiri thinks, as he tries to finish that last of his report. Couldn’t Haku have waited maybe fifteen minutes? “What is it?”

“We don’t have a mirror in here.”

He stops writing. “What?”

“A mirror,” Haku repeats, “For seeing yourself–”

“I know what a mirror is. There’s one in the bathroom.” He should know—he just cleaned the bathroom today.

“Don’t you find it strange there isn’t one in next to the closet? Or just in this room?”

“Why would we need one?” Where is this conversation even leading to. “The one in the bathroom is enough.”

“What if you want to do more?”

“What?” Exasperated at the interruptions, he finally looks up. “Haku, I don’t like where this conversation is going. I don’t even know what you’re trying to say.”

His Messiah merely looks at him, a juicebox sticking out of his mouth as he grins. “Don’t you ever have the urge to stand in front of a mirror and look at your reflection?”

“When I’m brushing my teeth.”

“Not that. Like I mean, really stare. You have very nice features.”

“…” He remembers to shut his mouth, lest he appears stupid with his mouth gaping open. “I’m not a narcissist.”

“It doesn’t have to fall in that category. You’re not obsessed.” Haku closes his book and swings his feet off the bed, before crossing the room to where Eiri is seated at the computer. “I’m talking about appreciating yourself.” The other leans over him, head on top of Eiri’s and his hands falling on Eiri’s shoulders.

“Get off! You’re heavy.” He squirms, but Haku isn’t budging.

“Look.” Haku points at the screen of the computer, which is darker because he’s let his computer idle and their faces are slightly visible.

He makes a sound that’s between a snort and scoff. “I see me and an idiot. What else?”

A hand meanders up his neck, fingers tilting his chin forward. “You’re not seeing what I’m seeing, Eiri. I said look.”

Eiri rolls his eyes, but he does that. He scrutinises his appearance. The screen, unlike an actual mirror…it softens his features, but at the same time brings out the shadows and he stares into his own eyes. It’s on the tip of his tongue to say this is ridiculous, until he realises Haku’s fingers are stroking over his throat in a slow pattern, a finger pressing lightly to the hollow of his neck. Fascinated, he watches the fingers climb higher, before they stop.

He meets Haku’s gaze, and then look himself once again. He has his father’s nose but his mouth is his mother’s; both he and his sister, he remembers, have the same eyes from their father. She’d be a tween if she had lived, and he wonders if she’d have painted nails or dyed hair. If she would still skip. If she still laughed the same way.

Sometimes, it’s like he doesn’t see himself, but the ghosts of his family.

At the insistent press of fingers to his cheek, he blinks and exhales. His height though–that was definitely not inherited. He hoped to grow but he hadn’t, not as well as he’d wished. Or maybe it’s not even him–maybe it’s the fact there’s too many taller people in Sakura and they dwarf him. Maybe it’s because Haku is like an asparagus and _way_ too tall and _still_ growing.

Jerk.

Haku blows in his ear and he starts, thoughts dissipating. “What was that for?” That tickled badly and he rubs his ear to get rid of the sensation.

“Oh, no reason.”

“Hmph. Like I’d believe that.”

“Are you getting a good look at yourself?”

“As well as I can in this sort of reflection. Why didn’t you just drag me to the bathroom?”

“The lighting in there isn’t great.”

…that makes no sense. The bathroom has the best lighting. He’s distracted, though, by Haku rubbing his shoulders.

“I like watching you, Eiri,” he now says, voice soft and not holding its usual light tone. It’s…the thoughtful tone, the really quiet one when he’s sharing secrets or telling something important. “When you shoot, when you clean your weapons…you look so capable. But not appreciative of yourself.”

“It’s not like I shoot to get a sticker next to my name in a kiddie chart.” Good deeds may lead to the road to heaven, but at this rate, he’ll be headed to purgatory with all the killing they do, with no questions asked.

“But you’re my Messiah, so I’m allowed to compliment you.”

“What, do you want compliments as well?”

Haku’s grin is quite visible, his teeth standing out from the darkened screen. “If you want to give them to me.”

“In your dreams.” He gently tugs Haku’s hands away from his shoulders. “But I guess you have a point. I’ll think about what you said.”

“And buy a mirror.”

“We don’t need a mirror in here.” Eiri pokes his mouse and watches as the screen brightens back up, and now he can only really make out the outline of his face. He hears Haku flopping back on his bed, and the crinkling of plastic paper as he opens another box of sweets.

It’s easier to appreciate others, rather than try to find your own good points. But if he had to name his qualities…he’s excellent at sniping, turns in his reports on time, didn’t break the rules…and aside from screaming at Haku occasionally (once a day), life was all right.

Maybe…Haku’s right. Maybe. He skims his thumb over his cheekbone, back and forth, until he eventually wrenches his attention back to his neglected report when he realises what he’s doing.

Not that he’d tell Haku that. Yet, perhaps, there’s still a little room for more appreciation.

 

**.end.**


End file.
